


O blush not so

by CursedCursingViking



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, Betcha Keats never thought his stuff would end up in a piece of bdsm rpf, F/M, Flogging, John Keats - Freeform, Light BDSM, Poetry, Spanking, yet here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 14:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17705837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CursedCursingViking/pseuds/CursedCursingViking
Summary: A short drabble, very sweet, calm, and relatively sober.In medias res, we get a glimpse of Tom and Sierra having a session.





	O blush not so

**Author's Note:**

> "O blush not so" by John Keats is a hella fine poem, and I took the liberty to add it. The two verses are not consecutive in the original, but they're my favourites. It's a great poem though, so if you're interested I highly recommend you check it out! I also kinda wanted Tom to recite something, preferably about blushing. Remember those blushing tweets? I sure do :p  
> I was feeling a bit unsure posting this, I was kind of in two minds while writing it. But I really wanna get something out, so here goes nothing! :)  
> I hope you enjoy!

Tom snapped his fingers and brought Sierra back to reality. 

“Pay attention. You drift off so easily… we might have to do something about that,” he mused and looked down at his submissive. 

Sierra was kneeling with her legs spread and her hands tied behind her back. Tom knelt down in front of her, brushing his big hands over the soft skin of her thighs, carefully rubbing the welts the cane had left. 

“That's the downside to blindfolding you,” he continued, half complaining, half praising. “Your imagination runs away and takes your concentration with it. However annoying it can be, it never outweighs the pros; You become so delightfully sensitive.” He smirked and let his fingers slide along her nether lips, his thumb pressing against her clit. 

Sierra tried to bite back a whimpering moan. Tom had instructed her “No sounds whatsoever”, and she intended to obey. She felt him remove the tie that was covering her eyes, and put his hand on her face.

“Look at me, darling.” He searched for her gaze as she opened her eyes. “Hmmm… what a beauty you are. I should like to fuck you, but not yet. Not yet, sweet girl,” he said as he stroked her cheek with one hand, and let the other return to her thigh. “Stand up,” he ordered her.

Sierra complied and rose, less elegantly than she liked. Her knees were aching and she couldn't adjust her balance with her arms. Tom grabbed her elbow to support her and lead her to a desk in the corner of the room. He bent her over and tied her ankles to the legs of the table. He untied her hands and moved them over her head. 

“Hold on to the edge of the table, darling.” He went away for a moment and came back with a flogger in his hand. Sierra eyes him and the instrument with anticipation. “Ready?” he asked. 

Sierra only nodded, but it was enough. 

Tom began flogging her, letting the straps collide softly with her thighs. He moved the soft strokes up Sierra’s naked body, over her ass to her back. Slowly he let the hits get harder, placing them all over her body, making her skin warm and slightly blushed. 

Sierra relaxed and relished in the slowly spreading pain. Every inch of her skin was being awoken with the lashes Tom doled out. Burnt and brushed. As if she touched a flame from a light he had lit, and let him comfort her from the scalding heat. 

After some time flogging her, Tom slowed down his pace and just let the whip graze over her flushed skin. Unzipping his pants, he freed his hard cock and moved up close behind Sierra. He put his hands on her hips and took it the view of her. “When you lie so beautifully in front of me…” he mused, “you remind me of such soft yet vulgar words by John Keats..." He bent down over her back and whispered in her ear, while letting his hands pet her reddened skin; 

“There's a blush for want, and a blush for shan't,  
And a blush for having done it;  
There's a blush for thought, and a blush for nought,  
And a blush for just begun it.

There's a sigh for aye, and a sigh for nay,  
And a sigh for "I can't bear it!"  
O what can be done, shall we stay or run?  
O cut the sweet apple and share it!”


End file.
